Ruach
by laynee
Summary: Sam and Dean encounter a nasty spirit in an abandoned hospital.  After battling, both brothers come out a little worse for wear.  HurtSick Sam, hurt Dean.
1. Arrival

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I just use the brilliant characters, so thank you.

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_Ruach – ROO-akh (Hebrew) breath or wind; also spirit or active force_

The tires of the Impala skidded a little on the gravel as Dean stopped in front of the impending building. Sam and Dean emerged from the car and looked up at the dilapidated hospital. Four stories of dark, boarded windows and crumbling brick.

"Pleasant." Dean observed sarcastically.

Sam checked for his gun. "Come on."

"Seriously though, why aren't places like Vegas or the topless beaches in Mexico haunted? It's always these creepy and depressing buildings in the middle of nowhere."

"There's a town ten miles down the road." Sam walked to the trunk of the car.

"And how many people live there? Four hundred."

Dean and Sam unloaded things they might need once inside the building. Dean tucked an electromagnetic reader into his pocket and turned to Sam.

Sam flipped open a notebook. "Sounds like a poltergeist, but a persistent one. They tried to reopen the hospital after they repaired the damage from the fire, but-"

Dean interrupted. "But strange things happened? Bed pans levitated and wheelchairs pushed people down stairs?"

"Something like that. Anyway, several priests have preformed exorcisms, but they apparently didn't work on the current company."

"When was the fire?"

Sam flipped through a few pages. "1938. It's been abandoned since 1981. Seven teenagers have either been killed or have gone missing from entering the building."

Dean looked over at Sam as he closed the notebook and tossed it in the car. A look passed between them that they both understood to mean 'let's go'. They walked up the crumbling stone steps and paused in front of the padlocked door. Dean tried the obvious way of rattling the padlock as Sam looked for a loose window.

Sam hopped over the side of the front steps and dropped next to a basement window. The plywood had clearly been pried off more than once and replaced haphazardly. Sam lifted the plywood off and looked through a kicked out window.

"Dean."

Dean leaned over the edge and looked down. "Nice."

Dean jumped over and landed next to Sam in the leaf filled window well. Sam climbed through and turned on a flashlight. Dean came down a few seconds later. The circles of light displayed a cobwebbed room, most likely a storage room judging from the odd assortment of chairs, file cabinets and carts. They carefully picked their way through a path to the door and let themselves out into a hallway.

"…if your scared, then why don't you go back." A teenage boy's voice taunted in the darkness.

"I'm not scared." A younger voice snapped back.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other and quietly walked towards the voices. Sam and Dean were led to a stairwell and had no option but to go up.

The light of other flashlights bounced off the once white walls of the first floor.

"Come on, this way." The teenage boy's voice said again, closer to where Sam and Dean were.

"I think we should go." A teenage girl's voice warned.

"I'm with Amy." The younger voice added.

"Shut up, Nick."

"Andy, we should head home." Amy said again.

Andy laughed. "Babies, both of you."

"I'm not a baby." Nick shot back.

The voices faded and the footfalls were growing more faint as well. Sam and Dean walked through the hall. Marker and paint covered parts of the walls, the names of past teenagers who braved the ghosts and stories.

"Are you sure there's something here, Sam?" Dean whispered as they passed another empty room.

"There's got to be something." Sam whispered back. "I mean, twenty people died in that fire, and those kids didn't get killed and go missing on their own."

"What about the ones up ahead?"

Sam paused for a moment. "We'll have to get them out without scaring them."

For a second Dean looked like someone had taken away Christmas. "Fine."

"Dean." 

"I won't do anything to scare them." He said in a mocking voice as he held up his hand, the thumb and pinkie touching across his palm. "Scouts honor."

Sam and Dean ventured to the second floor. The place was quiet and if they knew anything, quiet was bad. Quiet made you think nothing was happening, it made you drop your guard, it made you an easy target. Sam and Dean knew better than to trust the quiet.

The second floor was as silent as the first. Their footsteps echoed more, that was what caught Sam's attention.

He swept the beam of his flashlight on the floor. "Dean."

Dean stopped and turned back to Sam. He looked where Sam's light was pointed. "Great, Sam. You found the floor."

"There's no dust, it's spotless."

Dean swept his beam along the floor. Sam was right, the floor was as clean as if someone had just mopped it.

"That's not normal." Dean whispered.

Sam and Dean's awareness ratcheted up a few levels. The hallway was silent save for Dean and Sam's tentative footsteps. Dean pulled out the electromagnetic reader and the thing went off the charts. Sam felt something like a soft breeze brush past his face.

"Dean, where'd those kids go?" Sam quietly asked.

"Nick!" The girl screamed.

"Awe, shit."

Dean and Sam took off towards the end of the hall. In the stairwell, the two older kids were on the floor holding tightly to the railing. They were completely terrified. Sam got to the doorway first. The kids, were fourteen or fifteen, looked up at him.

"Are you all right?"

Amy nodded. Andrew had his eyes locked on something down the stairs. Sam followed his gaze and saw Nick lying crumpled on the landing. Sam ran down to him without a second thought. Dean stood at the top of the stairs.

Sam reached Nick and was relieved to see him still conscious. "Hey, are you all right?"

"My leg hurts." He gasped from the pain.

Sam looked up at Dean. "Come help me."

Dean ran down the stairs and knelt next to his brother. Nick was about twelve and he was terrified. Sam and Dean helped him stand and brought him to the top of the stairs where the light was a little better.

Andrew dropped down next to Nick. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"It's okay."

The air moved around them like a sudden gust of wind. Sam and Dean automatically looked to each other. Nick, Andrew and Amy grabbed for the railings. Sam and Dean turned and saw the spirit they had been hunting. The blurred from of a man in a white coat stood between them and the hallway. The spirit was not happy.

A sudden gust of wind burst down the hallway and into the stairwell. It had the force of a straight-line wind from a tornado. Sam and Dean were blown into the railing, which creaked alarmingly, but held firm. The wind stopped as suddenly as it started. The man was also gone.

"Dean, we got to get these kids out of here." Sam kept his voice low.

Dean nodded. Amy and Andrew got to their feet. They helped Nick stand, he tested the weight on his leg carefully.

"You guys think you can get out of here on your own?" Dean asked.

Andrew nodded, his bravado from earlier completely gone.

"Go on, we'll be right behind you."

They three carefully started down the steps. Sam and Dean watched them for a second. They felt a wind on the back of their necks and turned. The spirit stood in the doorway, looking just as angry as before. Before Dean or Sam could react, the strong wind started again. Both were thrown down the stairs to crash at the landing where they found Nick at.

Dean was the first to his feet. Sam coughed a few times and pushed himself up.

"You all right, Sam?" Dean asked without taking his eyes from the figure at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah." Sam glanced over at Dean. "Are we getting that thing, or trying tomorrow?"

"I'm for tomorrow." Dean looked at Sam once the spirit vanished again.

Footsteps on the stairs made Dean and Sam tense again. They glanced at each other and waited.

Andrew appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "We can't get through this way."

"Why?" Dean walked down a few steps.

"We can't open the door at the bottom of the stairs."

Dean and Sam went down and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. They had no choice but to walk through the second floor again. Nobody was excited to face the spirit again, but there were no other options. Dean took the lead and Sam the rear. Nick's leg was better and he could at least support his own weight.

Dean approached the top of the stairs with caution. "Ready?" He glanced behind and saw everyone nod.

"When you get through the door, move as quickly as you can to the other side." Dean looked back at Sam.

Sam touched Nick's shoulder. "I'll help Nick."

Dean stood as guard as Amy and Andrew passed through the doorway and took off at a fast run. Dean followed to make sure that that thing didn't go for the kids again. Sam took hold of Nick's arm.

"Ready?"

Nick nodded. They passed through the doorway and went as quickly as possible down the hall. Halfway to the door, Sam heard the wind start. He pulled Nick along. Dean stood in the other doorway to the front stairs.

The wind hit Sam and Nick. They both fell forward onto the floor and didn't move. As soon as they were down, the wind stopped. Dean ran forward and knelt at Sam's side.

"Sam?"

Sam slowly lifted his head. His nose bleed from his face hitting the floor.


	2. Breath

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I just use the brilliant characters, so thank you.

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Sam slowly lifted his head. His nose bled from his face hitting the floor.

He glanced around and pushed himself up to sitting. He touched Nick's shoulder.

"Nick." Sam turned him over. "Nick, wake up."

Slowly Nick opened his eyes. Blood ran from a cut on the boy's forehead. He slowly sat up. Dean took Nick's arm and helped him to his feet. Sam hauled himself to his feet and wiped the blood from his face.

Dean saw the figure behind Sam. "Sam."

Sam turned just as Dean yelled. For a moment, nothing moved. Sam took a tentative step back towards the stairwell. Slowly he made it to the stairs, the spirit always staying five feet away.

Dean, Sam and the three kids moved down the stairs as quickly as they could. Sam climbed out the basement window and helped the kids through as Dean helped them from behind. Once outside, they all gathered by Dean's car.

"How'd you get here?" Sam asked Andrew.

"Walked, it's like two miles."

Dean opened the door. "We'll give you a ride, get in."

The three climbed into the back of the car. Dean glanced over at Sam as they climbed in. Dean followed the directions that Amy gave them and they pulled up in front of a white farmhouse. Sam climbed out and helped Nick.

"Listen, thanks for getting us out of there." Andrew looked from Dean to Sam.

"Yeah, well." Dean was uncomfortable with the thanks.

The three walked up to the house. Sam leaned on the car and sighed.

"Let's figure this thing out." Dean stated and climbed in.

Sam and Dean arrived at their motel room a few minutes later. They were both sore and tired from being thrown down the stairs and beat by the pissed off spirit. Sam lay back on his bed for a few minutes. Dean pulled out the notebook and laptop.

"We got to figure out who that was before we go looking to get rid of him." Sam said while looking at the ceiling.

Sam sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked over at Dean.

"He definitely was not happy to have visitors." Dean muttered.

Sam stood and flexed his shoulders. "I'm going to grab a shower."

"Finally." Dean smirked.

Sam let his aching body relax under the warm water. His chest felt tight, like the beginning of a wicked cold. He just assumed it was from the wind being knocked out of him when he flew down the stairs. He turned off the water and toweled himself off.

Sam emerged a few minutes later. Dean was focused on the computer screen, but looked up as Sam sat on the bed. Dean stood and pulled off his shirt. Sam could see a faint bruise on Dean's shoulder blade and arm.

"That from the fall?"

Dean carefully touched his arm. "Yeah. How about we defeat this thing not near any stairs."

Sam grabbed the computer. "I'm okay with that."

Dean disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Sam poured through records of all the deaths in the history of the hospital. Anytime he saw 'doctor' before a name, his attention focused. He didn't find anything of value by the time Dean emerged from the bathroom.

Dean was asleep almost as soon as he stretched out on the bed. Sam stayed awake and continued to search. He started to develop a bit of cough, nothing more that a little tickle in his throat.

He was surprised to see that it was just past one in the morning when he looked up at the clock. He had just stumbled across a report of a doctor Harold Rayes, killed by a psychotic patient who had strangled him. That would definitely give a spirit enough material for a long and deep vengeance. It was during the fire in '38 and appeared that doctor Rayes had gone into the patient's room to evacuate him. The patient, already on psychiatric watch, panicked and strangled the doctor. Somehow the patient got the doctor down to the basement, where he hid the body and then died of smoke inhalation. The man was found but the doctor was not.

Sam wrote down the details and turned off the computer. He pulled the blanket over himself. He felt achy and the cough that started as something small was deep and painful. He tried to sleep, to forget what he felt, but he couldn't. Sam dozed in hour naps broken by coughing spasms.

Around four in the morning, Sam quietly crawled out of bed. He pulled on a sweatshirt and slipped on his shoes. He tried to be quiet but his lungs betrayed him as he tried to stifle his coughing in his sleeve. He slipped outside and closed the door behind him.

It was cold and the only light was from the streetlights across the parking lot. Sam shivered a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. A coughing fit hit him so hard that he dropped to his knees. His chest and back ached from the violence of his coughing. Tears gathered in his eyes as he struggled to get a breath. He tasted blood.

Finally he was able to take a staggered breath. He sat back against the wall next to the door and tilted his head back as he brought oxygen back into his lungs. The door to his room opened and Dean stepped out.

"You all right?"

Sam nodded and took slow breaths. Dean held his hand to Sam's forehead.

"You seem a little warm."

"I'm fine." Sam replied.

Dean leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. Sam coughed again and wished that Dean would go back inside.

"Sam, you shouldn't be out here."

"The cold is easier to breathe." Sam gasped.

Dean sat down with his brother. Sam half wished he would go back inside and was half glad that he was sitting at his side. They sat by their front door for nearly an hour. Sam's breathing was eased and the coughing was less painful and frequent. He pushed himself to his feet and sighed.

Dean stood. "You doing all right?"

Sam nodded. He was exhausted from battling for air and just wanted to sleep. They went back into the room. Sam crawled into bed and pulled the blankets over his head to try and get rid of the chill from sitting outside. Dean watched Sam breathe for a few minutes before he also returned to bed and to sleep.

Dean was the first up and automatically looked over to Sam's bed. His brother was tangled in the sheets and blanket, but slept peacefully. Sam coughed and buried his face in the pillow, at least he was asleep so that he didn't have to feel the pain in his chest and back from the force. Dean dressed quietly and scribbled a quick note about breakfast.

While Dean was out he grabbed a quick cup of coffee and something to help Sam's cough. He returned and Sam was still asleep. Dean hated to wake him, but knew the cough syrup would help.

He poured out the dose. "Sam." He touched Sam's shoulder. "Sammy."

Sam opened his eyes and blearily looked at Dean.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been kicked in the chest all night."

Dean held out the little plastic cup of medicine. Sam took it without argument or question. He was pale and his fingers shook slightly. After a few minutes, Sam shoved back the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the job, you know, get the spirit that threw us down the stairs." Sam replied and coughed again.

"Yeah, you'll be real good at sneaking up without it noticing." Dean paused. "You look like crap."

"Thanks, Dean."

"Seriously. You don't look well."

Sam had to agree that he really didn't feel up to climbing several flights of stairs, searching for a body that nobody has found and dealing with a very angry spirit. He was using up much more energy than he thought possible to just staying sitting on the bed. Sam rested his elbows on his knees. He coughed again and saw a faint trace of blood in his palm. He wiped it on his dark pants before Dean could notice.

"I could catch a few more hours of sleep." Sam admitted nonchalantly.

"We still need to figure out what happened." Dean added.

Sam looked up. "I found quite a bit last night, it's in the notebook."

Dean grabbed it off the table and paged through the new notes.

"Hey, Dean. You could head into town if you want. I'm okay here."

"You sure?"

Sam shrugged. "It's just a cold or something. I can always call."

Dean was torn between leaving Sam and knowing that Sam had always liked a bit of independence. Dean looked at his brother, he looked sick, but not deathly ill. He seemed better than when he was awake in the middle of the night.

It was as though Sam knew the process that Dean was going through. "Dean. I'm fine."

"Fine. I'll be back in a couple hours." He stood. "I'll see what I can find out in town."

Sam waited until Dean left before he curled back under the blankets. He gave into the coughing spasm that he had been trying to hold back. He fell asleep with his lungs aching and his head pounding.


	3. Realization

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I just use the brilliant characters, so thank you. Also, I love the comments – so thank you to all the readers for that.

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Sam fell asleep with his lungs aching and his head pounding.

Dean parked his car in front of the line of buildings that made up the entire downtown. He looked down one side of the empty street to the other. Dean loitered around town for a while. He stumbled across the library and went inside. There were a few people in chairs with books open in front of them.

Dean walked up to the ancient librarian. "Ma'am?" He smiled charmingly. "Would you happen to know where the newspaper archives are? I'm working on a history project for a college course I'm taking."

She peered at Dean through her glasses as though trying to detect the lie. Dean held up the notebook and pen and hoped it would help his case.

She pointed to a doorway leading to stairs. "Through there."

"Thank you." Dean ducked his head and walked down the stairs.

The room was dark and musty, a clichéd library basement. Volumes of the town's newspapers sat dusty on dustier shelves. Dean pulled one down and opened it on a creaky wooden table. He paged through the articles until he found one about the hospital fire. There wasn't much that he didn't already know, but the details were good to get down. He took several pages of notes before he returned the book and climbed back up the stairs.

Dean smiled and waved and the librarian and ignored the piercing look she gave him. He pulled out his cell phone and saw that there were no messages from Sam or anyone else. He debated calling his brother, whether to risk waking him to check up on him. After a few minutes, Dean slid the phone back in his pocket. He loitered around the one block of downtown, marveled at the quaintness of it all.

Sam woke after an hour. He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. His breath was tight in his lungs. He coughed and instinctively rolled to his side and curled his knees in. After a minute he rolled to his back again and tried to take regular breaths. He pushed himself up against the headboard so he could breathe easier.

He glanced over at the cell phone on the nightstand and considered calling Dean, but thought against it at almost the same moment. He slowly stood to keep the dizziness at a minimum and walked over to the table where the bottle of cough syrup sat. He poured himself a dose and amused himself by briefly thinking of the small plastic cup as a shot glass. He took a drink of water to wash down the bitter taste of the medicine.

Sam turned and saw the room sway a little. He took a slow breath and leaned against the wall to stay on his feet. After a few minutes he felt steady enough on his feet to go back to bed. He sunk onto the bed and sat with his elbows rested on his knees. He was beginning to think that this wasn't just another chest cold. He coughed again and winced at the pain in his chest and back. He could hear the air wheeze in his lungs as he took in a breath.

He looked again at the cell phone on the nightstand. Sam reached for it and held it in his hand for a few minutes as he looked at Dean's name on the screen. He closed the phone and curled on the bed. He kept the phone in his hand as he fell asleep again.

Dean walked down the street and stepped into a diner. He found a booth in the back corner and sat down. The waitress, in her forties and a hideous blue uniform that did nothing for her, came over and popped her gum. Her eye shadow was the exact same shade as her uniform.

She had the voice of a woman who had been smoking for the past forty years. "What can I getcha?"

Dean wished for Sam to be sitting across from him to catch the 'get a load of her' glance. "Uh, just a cup of coffee, please."

She spoke without any trace of enthusiasm. "The apple pie is best in four counties."

"No thanks. Just the coffee."

"Cream or sugar?"

Dean suppressed a smirk. "Black is fine, thanks."

She returned with a white mug of coffee. Dean took a sip of the strong coffee and took in the renovated in the seventies décor. At least it matched the room back at the motel.

Two women walked in and sat at a table not far from Dean. Even if he didn't want to listen to their conversation, he would have been able to catch every word.

"Did you hear about Sarah's boy?" The woman had the perfect tone for gossip. Dean was sure she practiced at home.

The woman with the hair that must have taken a can of hairspray leaned forward. "No, what about him?"

"Well, it seems that Andrew, Amy and Nick snuck into the old hospital last night."

That caught Dean's attention. He set down his coffee and leaned towards the women some.

The hairspray queen clicked her tongue. "I don't see why they don't just tear that place down."

"I know. Anyway, it seems that Nick fell down some stairs."

"He's such a sweet boy, was he all right?"

"They took him into the hospital early this morning. The poor boy could hardly breathe." The supplier of the gossip leaned forward and glanced around. "The doctors think it's bronchitis or pneumonia or something, but they took him down to the hospital in Newhope for tests or treatment or something. Now, what sort of hospital can't treat a case of pneumonia?"

"You think it was something else?"

"Well, sure. Who knows what sort of chemicals are in that hospital still. I just hope he doesn't go the way of that Anderson boy."

Dean felt a sense of dread drop into his stomach. He threw a few dollars on the table for the coffee and left the diner. He dialed Sam's number on the way out and half jogged to the car.

Sam's phone rang on the bed beside his pillow. The bed was empty and the blanket stripped.

Sam sat on the floor of the bathroom. He had the shower going hot so the bathroom filled with steam. He was shirtless and had the blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned against the wall in a corner and took slow breaths of the hot, moist air. He coughed violently and spit rust colored mucus into the wastebasket at his side. He was pale except for his flushed cheeks. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Dean climbed into the car. "Damn it, Sammy, answer your phone." He said as it went to voicemail. He pulled out of the parking spot and tore off down the street. Dean kept trying Sam's phone as he drove back to the motel. Each time it went to voicemail, Dean grew more anxious.

He pulled into the spot in front of the room and fumbled with the key in the lock. He pushed open the door.

Sam's bed was empty except for the crumpled sheet. His phone rang next to the pillow where it was left.

The shower was on and Dean relaxed a little. He sat on his bed and tried to place what was missing. He stood once he realized that the blanket was missing and knocked on the bathroom door.

His anxiety rose again. "Sammy, you all right?"

Dean grabbed the doorknob and was relieved to find it unlocked. He pushed open the door and saw Sam sitting on the floor wrapped in the blanket.

Dean knelt next to his brother. "Are you all right?"

"I thought the steam would help." Sam coughed slightly.

"Did you take anything?"

Sam nodded.

"Did it help?"

He shook his head. "That's why I'm in here."

"You want to go back to bed?"

Sam closed his eyes to think for a minute before he nodded. Dean turned off the water. He helped Sam off the floor and guided him back to bed. Sam, still wrapped in the blanket, curled on his side and coughed.

Dean held up the thermometer. "Do you want to do it, or do you want me to?"

Sam pushed himself up and took his temperature. He handed it to Dean after it beeped 102.8. Sam slid down into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"What do you want to do, Sam?" Dean sat on his bed.

"Nothing right now."

"That kid, Nick, he's in the hospital because he can't breathe." Dean paused. "Maybe you should join him."

Sam opened his eyes. "No. 

"Sammy."

"Dean, no."

Dean didn't have the heart to pressure Sam when he looked so pale and sick. "Okay."

Dean handed Sam a glass of water and a few ibuprofens. Sam took the pills and drank the water before he sunk back into the pillows.

"Don't make me go against my word, Sam." Dean whispered as Sam fell back asleep.


	4. Breaking

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I love the comments – so thank you to all the readers for that.

If any of the medial info is wrong, feel free to blame me because it's my fault.

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Don't make me go against my word, Sam." Dean whispered as Sam fell back asleep.

Dean spent the rest of the day in the room making sure that Sam was all right. Sam woke a few times, but slept most of the time. Dean kept feeding him cough syrup and ibuprofen to try and ease Sam's discomfort. Dean winced every time Sam coughed. His fever didn't go any higher, but it didn't get any lower either.

Dean filled the time organizing all the information that he and Sam had gotten about the doctor's psychotic ghost. He figured the bones were probably in the basement somewhere. The basement seemed to be the least renovated, most likely because it was the least damaged by the fire. He found a blueprint of the hospital before the fire and studied it carefully.

Sam woke up and saw Dean working. His breath was shallow and painful. He coughed and tasted blood again.

Dean looked over. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better." Sam coughed again, a flash of pain on his face.

Sam pushed himself up to sitting and leaned back against the headboard. His breath was short and quick. Dean tried to hide his concern because he knew Sam would continue to hide what was wrong.

"What did you find out?" Sam asked with his eyes closed.

"Just some details. The newspaper archives were good, which makes our job easier."

Sam nodded. "What happened to that kid? Nick."

"Don't know."

Sam studied Dean for a few seconds. "You think me and him are related."

Dean shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Would much surprise you anymore?" Sam asked with a weak smile.

Sam dissolved into another coughing spasm. Dean stood and filled a glass with water. He set it on the nightstand next to Sam. All Dean or Sam could do was wait it out. Sam's eyes watered from the force and the pain in his chest and back. He coughed and gagged and choked on the air he tried to breath. Finally he sunk back into the pillows and took fast breaths to compensate. His eyes were closed as he focused only on breathing.

"That kind of hurt." Sam gasped.

"Sounded like it." Dean tried to keep the tone light, unworried.

Dean wanted to ask Sam to go to the hospital, but knew that the only way Sam would get there was to either pass out or to want to go on his own. Sam held a clenched fist over the center of his chest. He could hear his own breath wheezing in his lungs. After a few minutes, Sam caught his breath and opened his eyes. He avoided Dean's gaze because Sam didn't want to see what he was thinking reflected in his brother's eyes.

"You all right?" Dean asked and hoped that he didn't sound as worried as he was.

Sam nodded. He felt like he couldn't really catch his breath, like any wrong move would send him into another coughing spasm. It crossed his mind a few times that passing out would be a good idea or at least a possibility. It also crossed his mind that he pulled a muscle in his back and chest from the coughing, or at least it felt like it. The thought that worried him most was that he was starting to think that it wasn't a chest cold at all.

He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and snuggled down into the pillow. He only meant to lay there with his eyes closed, but he fell asleep within minutes. Dean watched him for a few minutes to make sure that his little brother kept breathing. After a while he turned back to the blueprint. Sam shifted and coughed in his sleep.

Dean worked until the early evening. He looked over at Sam.

Hating to wake him, Dean gently touched Sam's shoulder. "Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes.

"I'm going to quick grab something for dinner. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, I'm all right."

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dean pulled on his jacket and Sam was already back asleep. He set Sam's phone next to his hand and quietly closed the door. Dean was gone somewhere between five and ten minutes. He didn't like leaving Sam for long.

Dean pushed open the door. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his head hung low.

Dean sat across from Sam on his bed. "Sammy?"

Sam raised his head slowly. Dean saw the faint smear of blood on Sam's pillow. Sam's breath was a little fast.

Dean could see the pain in Sam's eyes. "I don't think this is just a cold, Dean."

"What do you want to do?"

Sam didn't answer right away. He tried to think of another option, any other option besides going to the hospital. He had been trying to think of anything since he heard the door close when Dean left and he started coughing so hard that he had to crawl into the bathroom so that when he vomited it wasn't all over the floor. Dean didn't need to know that.

Dean touched Sam's shoulder. "Sammy?"

Sam sighed a little and coughed again. "Maybe, maybe I should go to the clinic." His words were small, defeated.

"Sure thing, Sam."

Sam let his gaze fall to the floor. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean knew his brother well enough to know how hard it was for Sam to say that. Dean also knew that Sam would want to keep as much of his independence intact as possible.

Dean stood by the door. "I'll see you in the car in five minutes."

Sam nodded and slowly stood. Dean closed the door behind him and walked to the car. He was worried about Sam and would have rather stayed in the room with him, but knew that it only would have made it worse for Sam.

Sam traded his flannel pants for jeans and pulled on a clean tee shirt. The small effort made him dizzy and his breath quick and shallow. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket on the way out. Sam climbed into the car just as Dean was starting to worry. Dean glanced over at his younger brother before he pulled out of the parking lot.

Thankfully small town hospitals rarely had full waiting rooms. Sam filled out the forms as he waited for the doctor. Dean sat at his side and paged through a magazine.

A nurse came through a door. "Sam Wilson."

Sam stood, left his jacket with Dean and walked through the door.

Doctor Anderson was in his late fifties, graying hair and was everyone's favorite doctor. He walked into the room and sat down.

He smiled up at Sam. "What seems to be the trouble, Sam?"

"It's probably just a chest cold or something."

"Why don't you hop up on the table."

Sam sat on the paper-covered table. Doctor Anderson took Sam's temperature, blood pressure and pulse. He worked methodically, but his touch was gentle.

He pressed the stethoscope to Sam's chest. "Breathe in, please." Sam took a breath. "And out."

After a few more breaths, doctor Anderson sat back. He looked at Sam for a few moments. "I'm a little concerned, Sam. You have decreased breath sounds in both lungs, but it doesn't sound entirely like pneumonia or bronchitis."

Sam waited for the doctor to continue.

"Have you been feeling dizzy or light-headed?"

"A little, mostly when I stand." Sam coughed and tasted blood again.

"Have you ever coughed so hard that it caused you to vomit?"

Sam hesitated for a second and then nodded.

"Have you been in or around any large fires, a house fire or something similar?"

The question caught Sam off guard. "No."

The doctor marked something in Sam's paperwork and looked up. "I'd like to run a few tests. Get a blood sample and a chest x-ray. I'd also like to check you into a room, just for the night."

Sam paused. "Do I really have to stay?"

"Sam, it seems to me that your lungs were damaged from smoke inhalation and that you may have a slight case of pneumonia. I'd like to keep you tonight, get you started on some antibiotics and have you spend a few hours on oxygen." Doctor Anderson touched Sam's knee. "I don't need to test your oxygen levels to see that you're having difficulty oxygenating your blood, the blue tint in your lips and fingernails is enough."

"What if I don't stay?" Sam tested.

"If the pneumonia gets worse, and it will, you will have a harder time breathing that you already do. The lack of oxygen in your blood can damage your organs and your brain."

Sam knew he was right, but he still hated to consent. "All right."


	5. Return

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I love the comments – so thank you to all the readers for that.

If any of the medial info is wrong, feel free to blame me because it's my fault.

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Sam knew he was right, but he still hated to consent. "All right."

Dean wasn't allowed back to see his brother until the tests were completed. As soon as oxygen tubing was placed under Sam's nose, he felt the fog in his brain clear and his breathing eased. It sort of felt like being underwater too long and then suddenly finding the surface. He was given an intravenous line of antibiotics and a mild sedative. An oxygen monitor was clipped to his finger.

The x-rays and tests confirmed doctor Anderson's suspicion of smoke inhalation with the firm foundations of pneumonia. He found it odd that it was almost exact to what Nick came in with early that morning. Nick's case was much more serious that Sam's, but the similarities were too obvious to ignore. Doctor Anderson hoped that he could get a handle on Sam's case before he ended up where Nick was, intubated in a coma in the big state hospital two hours away.

Dean came into the room and found Sam half asleep on top of the blankets.

Sam couldn't read the expression on Dean's face. "Hey, Dean."

Dean sat in a chair at Sam's bedside. "Doctor said that you'd have to say overnight."

Sam nodded. "Sorry."

"I'm just glad you got here, Sammy."

Dean could see how Sam's face had lost the gray tone and how his lips lost the blue tint that he didn't notice until it was gone. It wasn't that Sam all the sudden got much sicker; it was more that he just stopped trying to pretend that he wasn't sick at all. Dean felt the anxiety leave his chest as Sam fell asleep.

Dean stayed until he was forced to leave when visiting hours were over. He stopped at the end of Sam's bed and watched his brother sleep for a few moments.

"Goodnight, Sam."

He drove back to the room and fell onto the bed. He was asleep almost as soon as he kicked his boots off.

Sam woke a few times through the night. A few times he woke coughing so hard that he couldn't get a breath in. A nurse would come into the room and raise the head of the bed to help him breathe. She'd turn up the oxygen a little and stay with him until he could breathe again. He'd fall asleep as soon as he stopped coughing.

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"…how's he doing?" Dean's voice woke Sam.

The room was lighter and Sam assumed it was morning. The oxygen had been removed, but he still had the intravenous line. The door to Sam's room was open a little and he could see the back of Dean's head and shoulder leaned against the doorframe.

"I was just about to check on him. I suspect that he'll be able to leave this morning sometime."

Doctor Anderson came into the room with Dean close behind.

"How are you feeling today, Sam?"

Sam glanced over at Dean. "A little better."

The doctor checked Sam's chart, his temperature, blood pressure and pulse again. He listened to Sam's lungs and checked the oxygen levels in Sam's blood.

He looked at Sam. "Your lungs sound better. I'm going to let you go home, but." He stopped and met Sam's eyes. "You will have to take antibiotics for a few weeks, you will have to rest and drink plenty of fluids."

"I understand."

"I want you to watch any colds that you might get and if you run a fever higher that 102 or notice shortness of breath while you're resting, I want you to come back."

Sam nodded.

Doctor Anderson removed the intravenous line from Sam's hand. "You will have some shortness of breath with normal activities; like going up stairs or even walking for long distances.

"Okay."

Doctor Anderson looked over at Dean. "I presume you'll keep him accountable for all this?"

Dean smiled at Sam. Only Sam was able to notice the faint trace of evil glee behind the smile. "Of course."

Doctor Anderson started to leave the room.

"Doctor?" Sam sat forward. "I was wondering how Nick was doing, I heard he was sick."

He paused in the doorway and looked back at Sam. "It's uncertain what his outcome is right now."

Sam pulled on his jeans and shirt as Dean checked him out, filled the prescriptions and got the car. He let a nurse wheel him down to the lobby, but insisted that he walk out the doors. Sam climbed into Dean's car near the entrance of the hospital. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He was going over what the doctor had said about Nick, already blaming himself.

Dean knew. "Sammy, what happened to that kid wasn't your fault."

"I should have gotten them out sooner."

"We did all we could."

The rest of the ride was silent, as silent as it could be with Dean's music going. He pulled into the parking lot by the motel room.

Sam opened his eyes when the car stopped. "What are you doing?"

Dean looked over at his brother. "The doctor said you needed to rest."

"We have to get that spirit before someone else gets hurt."

"Sam-"

"Dean, I can rest after we get it. I swear I will." Sam turned to his brother. "Please."

Dean sighed out of frustration and pulled out of the parking lot. Sam tried to stay awake, but he couldn't right a losing battle. Dean pulled into the drive before the school and turned off the car. He looked over at Sam. He was asleep against the window.

Dean opened his door and climbed out. He popped the trunk and grabbed what he needed. He thought briefly about waking Sam, but thought against it as he looked up at the school. The both had their phones. Dean had gotten rid of enough restless spirits to be able to handle this one on his own. He walked over to the window, pulled off the plywood and climbed through.

He walked through the silent halls and compared the blueprint to the doorways he passed. He had a few ideas where to look. He kept his attention focused for any movement other than his own muffled footsteps. The footprints from the night before were still untouched on the floor. Hopefully the spirit kept to the second floor.

Sam woke and realized the car was parked in front of the abandoned hospital. He looked over and saw the empty driver's seat.

He pushed open his door. "Damn it, Dean."

Sam climbed out of the car and walked towards the window. He wasn't as fit as he thought and half hoped that Dean had already done what was necessary.


	6. Finished

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I love the comments – so thank you to all the readers for that.

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He wasn't as fit as he thought and half hoped that Dean had already done what was necessary.

He followed Dean's dusty footprints cautiously. He didn't hear anything and didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He looked in each room he passed, but saw nobody. He coughed and leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

Dean found the small storage room he was looking for. The original blue prints didn't quite match up with the renovations, an area of five feet by eight feet was unaccounted for. He walked through the room and looked for anything out of the ordinary.

In a corner, behind a stack of boxes of medical records, Dean found the small door he was looking for. He kicked the boxes aside and tried to open the door. Decades of being forgotten had thoroughly jammed the door. Dean swore under his breath and kicked the door in. He was thankful for old wood and weak locks.

The crawlspace was cobwebbed so efficiently that it looked as though the cobwebs were part of the walls themselves. He crawled through the three-foot doorway and turned on the flashlight. The beam was composed of the millions of dust particles disturbed into the air. The circle of light fell on the dark bones of someone in the corner.

Thinking that this would be easier than he thought, Dean grabbed the salt. He shook it liberally over the bones and then covered that in lighter fluid. Not wanting to light the bones with him in the crawlspace, he dripped a trail on the floor as he backed out. He finished the trail in the center of the room and brushed the cobwebs from his hair.

Sam felt a breeze rush past him and he instinctively flinched. He waited for something to happen, but the hallway was as silent and still as it was before the wind. The dust on the floor swirled a little and the footprints were wiped clean. Sam figured that there were only a few things that would bring the doctor down from the second floor and unfortunately those things most likely involved Dean.

Dean struck a match. The instant it blew out he knew that the doctor hadn't stayed on the second floor. He turned and wasn't surprised to see the doctor standing in the doorway looking just as angry as he had the first time. Dean smirked and lit another match. The doctor's eyes hardened. Dean was blown back against the wall. The matches fell from his hands.

The wind was knocked from his lungs and he lay gasping on the cold cement floor. Dean looked up at the doctor and saw Sam standing in the door. The doctor hadn't noticed Sam yet and Dean intended to keep it that way. Dean pushed himself up to his feet somehow and leaned heavily against the wall. Sam noticed the smell of lighter fluid and saw the trial of liquid on the floor.

The ghost was focused on Dean and took a step towards him. Sam took the opportunity to sneak into the room. He pulled a lighter from his pocket. The ghost advanced on Dean. In one smooth motion, Sam light and threw the lighter. The trail of lighter fluid ignited and raced towards the crawlspace.

The doctor turned at the start of the flames. Something like satisfaction or hunger flashed in the doctor's eyes as he turned his attention to Sam. The doctor looked at Sam and immediately felt the air leave his lungs. Sam fell to the floor as he tried to take a breath. Dean ran for his brother out of instinct. The doctor saw him coming and threw him in to the wall. Dean fell limp onto the floor. In the moment that the doctor's attention was focused on Dean, Sam managed to get a breath. Now that Dean was taken care of, the doctor could again focus on Sam.

Sam once again found his lungs free of air and he struggled in vain to take a breath. He was going to black out soon, he could already see the dark closing in from the outsides of his vision.

The fire hit the bones and the doctor screamed. Air suddenly rushed into Sam's lungs. He lay panting on the floor, never quite realizing how good breathing felt. He pushed himself up and saw that the fire had consumed the crawlspace. He crawled over to Dean and tried to wake him.

Smoke had started to fill the room, and Sam's lungs in their already wakened state couldn't handle it. He was dizzy and light-headed and just wanted to sleep. He coughed and grabbed Dean under his arms and pulled him out of the room.

As quickly as he could, Sam pulled his brother's unconscious form down the hall. Sam ignored the pain in his lungs or the force of coughing. His only focus was getting Dean out of the hospital before they both got caught in the fire. He managed to get Dean to the broken window.

Sam set him on the floor and grabbed a gurney with a broken wheel. Some how, most likely from a burst of adrenaline, Sam was able to hoist Dean up on top. Sam climbed through the window and pulled Dean out after him. Sam got halfway to the car before he collapsed and blacked out.

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Sam woke in the passenger seat of the car. It took him a moment to realize that the car was moving down the highway. His lungs burned and his head swam. He shifted and groaned in spite of himself.

"Sam?" Dean glanced over.

He looked over at Dean. A line of blood ran from under Dean's hairline.

"You awake, Sammy?"

Sam pushed himself up slightly. "You all right to drive?" His voice was horse. He started coughing.

"I'm not quite seeing double." He paused. "You shouldn't have gone in, but I'm glad you did. Thanks, Sam."

Sam took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. "You should drop some weight, Dean. I almost couldn't get you out the window." He smiled.

"Yeah, well. If you had any upper arm strength, it wouldn't have been a problem."

It occurred to Sam that Dean might be driving to the hospital and Sam almost said something, but he fell asleep before he could.

Dean turned off the car and sat looking at the motel room door for a few minutes. He looked over at Sam asleep against the window.

Dean pushed open his door. "Come on, Sam."

Sam opened his eyes and relaxed when he saw the motel. He climbed out of the car and wearily walked to the motel room. As soon as Dean opened the door, Sam flopped down on his bed.

He heard Dean shake a pill bottle and Sam pushed himself up on his elbows. Dean swallowed a couple ibuprofens without water. He set a bottle of water in front of Sam and dumped out the antibiotics that he needed to take.

Dean also set a prescription inhaler on the nightstand. "Doctor said you should use that if your breathing gets tight."

Sam took the pills and a few puffs of the inhaler. He leaned back against the headboard and looked at Dean.

Dean sat down. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

Sam nodded and took a slow breath. He coughed slightly and closed his eyes. "How's your head?"

"It's fine."

Dean watched Sam fall asleep before he turned out the light and did the same.

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Dean woke first and sat up. He looked over at Sam and smiled. Dean stood and walked into the bathroom for a shower.

Sam woke up, heard the shower going and sat up. His lungs still felt sore, but maybe a little better. Not any worse at least. The shower stopped and Dean emerged in only his jeans.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam took a second to think about it. "I'm all right. You thinking about heading on today?"

"Do you feel up to it?"

Sam stood both to prove it to himself and to Dean. "Yeah."

Sam grabbed a quick shower while Dean packed up everything. Within the hour Sam and Dean were back on the road. Dean stopped at a gas station on the edge of town and grabbed two cups of coffee and some donuts.

He climbed back into the car. "The woman behind the counter said that Nick woke up. He's expected to be home in a few days."

Sam nodded. "That's good."

Dean turned on the music and headed for the nearest highway. Sam leaned back in the seat and took a slow breath. Everything was going to be all right, well, as all right as Dean and Sam's life could ever be. There'd still be something else that needed to be killed or banished or exercised, but for now there was nothing on the radar but an open road.


End file.
